Tomorrow my sweet little Ezra will officially be six weeks old. I remember when I was pregnant all of my mommy-friends warning me about the first six weeks. They all commonly used one word to describe it: hell. Okay, so not all of them, but most of them. My husband and I braced ourselves. We heard stories of sleepless nights, endless hours of crying, and post partum blues. I tried to find information about these weeks that everyone feared so much- and found mostly nothing. My friends asked why I was looking because I am, after all, a pediatric nurse. True. But I take care of sick kids and for the last two years only sick babies most of which are a little high off of morphine or too sick to care. Very, very different than a well baby. When we met little Ezra in the wee hours of the night on December 17th we were both so happy and felt so blessed- how could this bundle cause so much trouble?

    And really, truly, it’s not as bad as many people predicted. We have our fair share of screaming and crying and gas and sleeplessness and exhaustion but we are both totally smitten with the little man. I think the hardest part has been not being able to do, well, anything. Ezra insists on being held, rocked, or nursed 24/7. And when I say 24/7 I mean it- this baby cries within 2 minutes of being put down. I think that might be the “hell” part people talk about. It’s not hell. I love snuggling, rocking, and holding Ezra. I just don’t get a single thing done. Shoot, if people were not bringing us meals David and I would possible be living off of cereal and toast. Thanks to all of our family and friends for their support and help! As a happy reward here is another picture of the world’s cutest baby (no, I am not biased at all)